Acta Sancti
by Harabael
Summary: My back hit something soft and I turned slowly to see white loose fitting trousers tucked into long brown leather boots, partially obscured by long white robes." Altaïr/OC
1. Chapter 1

A/N - So this is my first attempt at writing FanFiction and frankly i'm surprised at the subject and the direction its taking. Nevertheless i'm glad i finally had enough brainwaves to type something.

Also I apologise if there is any mistakes, I did take the time to spell check and read over it.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Assassin's Creed or any of it's characters. I do own my own character but i haven't thought of a name for her yet.

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_Acta Sancti_

I fell face forward into the dirt. My rest on the ground was short lived however as a hand yanked me roughly back to my feet by my hair.

"Get up you filthy whore!" A guard spat in my ear. The alley was dark and I could vaguely see the outlines of three more guards coming to join in his fun. There was no point in screaming, I reasoned as no one would bother to help but I tried anyway.

"Help! Someone plea-" A swift punch to the jaw silenced my pleads and I fell back to ground dazed. The guards grinned lecherously down at my struggling form as I forced myself to find my feet. Shakily I pulled myself to my knees only to feel a sharp pain at the back of my neck. The guard at the front pulled down on my hair forcing my head up to face him. His face split into a grotesque smiled as his other hand reached down to unbuckle his belt. I struggled helplessly in his grasp, my unwillingness only making him pull harder on my hair.

Clamping my eyes and mouth shut, I tried in vain to think of something else. The ragged laughter of the other guards taunted my ears as they mocked my futile attempt of resistance. I tried and failed to block them out, knowing too well that it would soon be their turn. I gagged violently at the smell of the man before me as he divested himself of his trousers and underclothes, barely noticing as a side thought that the other guards were now silent. I didn't dare open my eyes for fear of what they might see, until suddenly the hand grasping my hair went limp and I heard a dull thud in front of me. Cautiously I cracked open one eye, jumping back in horror as the four guards lay before me in pools of their own blood. My back hit something soft and I turned slowly to see white loose fitting trousers tucked into long brown leather boots partially obscured by long white robes.

Letting my gaze travel upwards, past his red sash, my eyes widened at the sheer mass of weaponry attached to his wide belt. Strapped to his wrist were two faded, brown leather gauntlets – the one attached to his left arm was longer, reaching his elbow and had intricately inscribed metal plating covering it. He only wore one glove, on his left hand, it was fingerless and I noted with a slight grimace that he was missing his ring finger. Forcing my eyes upwards - past three other thin leather straps, held together at the right side of chest by a sliver clasp, which no doubt fixed another piece of weaponry to his back - I stared into his face. The top half was completely shadowed by his hood, his eyes lost somewhere in the darkness. His straight, smooth nose sat perfectly above his curved lips and a light stubble played across his strong jaw.

His lips twitched in a small smirk and I suddenly realised I was staring. Mumbling a thanks, I stumbled around to make my way back to the street. A strong arm caught mine and spun me back round to face the strange white robed man. Oh God! Did he save me just so he could rape me himself?

"Are you hurt?" He asked, his voice rich and deep. The question caught me completely off guard and I blinked slowly before nodding. My body was still shaking from the shock of the whole situation but I wasn't hurt. Not physically. Thanks to him. I tried to turn again but once more his firm grip stopped me.

"You're shaking" He stated matter-of-factly. Staring at him again, I took a deep breath trying to calm my nerves and still my shaking.

"I'm fine. Thank you for your concern." I nodded again, forcing a smile, trying to reassure myself as much as I was him. His grip on my arm loosened and he stared down at me for a few moments before releasing me completely. I again mumbled a thank you as he turned away from me to face the wall. In two swift movements he had swung himself onto the rooftop, silently walking away.

Shuddering, I turned again towards the street. My feet tiptoed round the blood and bodies of the guards as I made my way back into the crowds and home.

It wasn't much. A deserted room, only partially covered by a roof, with some rough linen sacks and hay in the corner. Crawling into my makeshift bed, I pulled off my worn out shoes and curled my knees up to my chin. Closing my eyes I could smell the acrid tang of unwashed skin; hear the evil chuckling of the guards; then sudden silence; the metallic taste of blood in the air. Squeezing my eyes shut tighter, I tried to fight the tears slowly clawing their way up my throat. I muffled my choked sobs in the coarse fabric as restless sleep slowly washed over me.

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A/N - So tell me what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N **- Sorry about the time it took me to update, I was away on a camping trip with the girls (it was immense). Also i had some slight writers block with this chapter so i apologise if it isn't up to scratch.

Thank you to everyone that reviewed. The fact you enjoyed my writing made me feel fantastic.

**Discliamer -** I don't own Assassin's Creed or any of its characters or settings.

_Acta Sancti_

Light filtered through the beams of the crumbling roof. Wiping the last remnants of sleep from my eyes I tried desperately not to cling to the events of the night before. Tugging on my shoes, I noted that they were slightly splattered with blood. Grimacing at the memory, I tried to wipe the flecks from the leather with no success. Sighing I conceded defeat and pushed myself up onto my bloodstained feet and out into the street.

I was never partial to begging. Instead, I had taken to stealing to provide for myself. Stumbling slightly my shoulder collided with a well dressed young man. Muttering apologies I left him standing, angry, in the street as I counted the coins in his money pouch.

The sun was high in the sky and the heat was suffocating. The smell of the poor district filled my nostrils as I wandered slowly through the market stalls. Stale sweat, rotten meat, sewage and over ripe fruit baked in the fiery midday sun. A few years ago my skin would have tightened and burned under the intense sunshine but now I barely notice as my once pale hands push through the crowds.

I was brought here by my father at the beginning of the third crusade. My mother died when I was very young, leaving my father with no other choice than to bring my along with him as I had no husband to provide for me. He died shortly after we arrived – he contracted a strange illness and the last I saw of him he was being dragged off to see some doctor – and I was left at the mercy of the rest of the soldiers. Running away seemed to be the only option. It seems none of them had any intention of honouring the memory of my father, sex was sex no matter where it came from.

The sun was just beginning to set as I slowly made my way home through the busy market place. Remembering last nights events I did not want to stay out longer than necessary. Not that I had any cause to worry, the guards were all preoccupied this evening on account of the speech taking place in the main square. The crowds were thinning, most people made their way over to the square to hear the newly elected King of Jerusalem – Conrad of Montferrat – before his coronation tomorrow.

I had been planning on going, if only to sneer and scoff at his words, but after finding myself in close proximity to enough guards this week I decided against it.

Turning down the street away from the market and into the poor district, I heard the city bells tolling in the distance. Looking up at the setting sun I didn't realise how long I had been walking for, however when the bell rang past nine I knew there had to be some mistake. My focus on the bells had completely distracted me from the commotion growing behind me. Spinning quickly at the shout of "Assassin!". I found myself staring at the man who had saved me only yesterday. Behind him chased at least fifteen guards all brandishing their weapons and shouting for help in stopping the white robed man. Jumping out of the way, I quickly decided to attempt to repay my would be saviour and stumbled in-front of his pursuers. The first three guards in the procession collided with my falling form, knocking me straight to the ground. I heard – and felt – a sinister crack as they fell onto of me, a few close behind them following suit. Looking down the alley at the remaining eight guards passing me by I saw him turn, the angle at which I was lying giving me a full view of his face. A slight recognition crossed his features as he saw me and he hesitated slightly before glancing at the guards still chasing him - and the ones struggling to get up after their unexpected fall – continued his flight by climbing the nearest building.

As the last of the guards disentangled himself from my dress I could hear him cursing my existence. Glaring down at my battered form he kicked me in the ribs before leaning close and pulling me by the hair so I was in line with his face.

"Watch your step, we may have lost the assassin thanks to your inability to walk." He snarled. His breath was hot on my face and every word came with a putrid stench. Slamming my head back to the ground, he spat on my face before walking away, leaving me with a reminder of the reek of his words. The back of my head felt warm and wet and the rusty bite of fresh blood filled my senses as my eyes began to slip out of focus and the world faded to black.

I awoke to a unfamiliar sensation. Warmth surround me and the ground seemed to be shifting steadily beneath me. As I tried to open my eyes the harsh light sent a screaming pain to the back of my head. As if reminding the rest of me I was alive the pain began to spread and focus on various areas of my body. My back ached; a constant throb raked my chest; my left leg felt as though someone was slowly twisting my bone out of place and a sharp throe shot up my arm at the slightest movement. A cry escaped me at the extreme pain mow stabbing through me and the ground suddenly stopped moving. Carefully, trying hard not to disturb the injury at the back of my head, I opened my eyes again. The light stung and I winced but kept my focus, slowly adapting to the image of the back of a horse's head in-front of me. I closed my eyes and reopened them, again met with the same thing. It's coat was a deep burgundy colour and it seemed to shake its black mane in impatience. How in the Hell did I get on a horse?

Looking down I saw two strong arms round my waist, hands holding the reins of the horse. I gasped audibly as I saw the left gloved hand had no ring finger. Assassin.

"Are you feeling well?" His voice was soft and I recognised his deep tones. I felt surprisingly little fear being pressed against this man who I knew now to be an assassin. I nodded and I felt a low rumble against my back.

The assassin let out a low chuckle. "You don't talk much do you?" I remembered my short answer and lack of words after he had saved me.

"I, its... just..." I fumbled over my words and settled for just shaking my head. He laughed a little louder this time and the sound could only be described as melodic. I felt my face flush, wishing silently he would stop laughing at me.

"Let us begin with something simple then. What is your name?" He questioned.

I thought, for a moment, about giving him a false name. What would that accomplish? He was after all the man who saved me.

"Aria"


End file.
